


The Truth

by goodgirl_astray



Series: The Sun, the Moon, the Truth [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-09 19:58:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5553371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodgirl_astray/pseuds/goodgirl_astray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Argents left this town about the same time as I did. They abandoned the warehouse  here and moved away to better things. I went into the big city to become a nurse. I met Rafael there and had Scott.<br/>A few years later, we moved back to Beacon Hills. I started working at the hospital and Rafe started a grueling commute. But we had a big house with a white picket fence and life was good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story comes as a background for "Good things come to those who wait". Melissa is a strong woman and she deserves a character study of her own, and how her romantic and/or sexual relationships changed her. It’s the final part of the series “The Sun, the Moon, the Truth”.  
> Canon: the Argents had a place of business in Beacon Hills.  
> Assumptions:  
> the Argents used to live in Beacon Hills.  
> Melissa was born and raised in Beacon Hills.  
> Chris Argent, Melissa Delgado and the future Sheriff Stilinski are about the same age so they knew of each other in high school.

 

The Argents left this town about the same time as I did. They abandoned the warehouse here and moved away to better things. I went into the big city to become a nurse. I met Rafael there and had Scott. We moved here, I started working at the hospital and Rafe started a grueling commute. But we had a big house with a white picket fence and life was good.

Rafe had run out of our lives many years before the Argents returned. When the Argents starting accusing Scott of kidnapping Allison, I lashed out and for a moment wished Rafe was still around. He’d always been the more level headed of the two of us. He would have handled the situation differently. I still think that the only reason I hadn’t slapped Chris Argent’s smug face was because Scott and Allison returned in time.

I disliked all the Argents I met, except for Allison. She was such a nice girl. And not in a pretty girl kind of way. She was the first girl I met that made me think “she’s so much like me!”

When I watched her with Scott… I used to think of my first love and how that ended. And then I wonder how could this girl be related to Victoria and Kate. I met both of them and my instinct branded them bitches.

 

++++

 

The first time I am in the same room as Chris Argent… is not even a room. I’m bound to a pole, a few feet away from my best friend who is also bound. This woman brings Chris Argent who seems dead but is probably just passed out or it wouldn’t make any sense for her to frisk him. I’m scared and amused at the same time to see how many weapons the woman removes from him.

“Well, he was prepared,” my friend says and we both watch Chris Argent waking up.

My nurse training kicks in and I use his name to help him focus. The fact that our captor took the time to disarm him and tie him up gave me hope. She comes back and tells the story that it’s not silver that kills werewolves, but it’s the family named with the French word for silver who kills werewolves. And I’m not sure I hope that Chris Argent gets out of this place.

It’s Isaac, my new werewolf-adoptive son who keeps the ceiling up. I see the interaction between Isaac and Allison and I start to think I ran out of Argents to like.

 

++++

 

When I find out that Allison is dead, I am shocked and it hurts more than I would have thought. Where does this pain come from? She was just a girl who reminded me of myself.

Isaac comes to say goodbye. He seems even more broken hearted than Scott, and telling him that he will survive this tragedy is the hardest thing I ever did. When he says he’s going to go to France with Allison’s father, the mother in me reacts.

“Isaac, I know it’s hard, and you think this pain will never end. But it will, and you need to think about your future. Stay here and finish high school. You have a family here… Scott and me. Stiles and his dad. Derek.”

The boy looks at me and my heart is breaking.

“I know. But Mr. Argent doesn’t have anyone.”

At first I don’t understand what he means. For me, the only Argent that mattered was Allison. Now I realize there’s another one left. Just one. For most of my life, it’s just been me and Scott. If anything happened to Scott… I’d go insane.

“You are a good person, Isaac,” I tell him. “But do you think you’ll be able to help him? You’re in pain yourself.”

I try to be gentle but I know that if this was about me and Scott… there would be nothing in the world that might console me. The boy looks at me like I’m an idiot. Which turns out to be true after I listen to him.

“I won’t be the one helping him. I saw Mr. Argent’s reaction. He’s on auto pilot now but soon he will feel. And with no one left… he won’t stay strong for himself. But he would stay strong to help someone who is weak.”

When did children become so wise? I didn’t know the man, but hearing Isaac I realize that the only reason I would try to stay sane if I ever lost Scott would be for the sake of someone who would be lost without my help.

I hug him tightly and kiss head. He’s not crying but I don’t need supernatural hearing to hear that his breathing is a lot like sobbing. I pray that Argent is the man this boy saw.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The next time Chris Argent shows up in my life, we’re once again in the role of adults supporting a plan made by children. His daughter isn’t among them and I can’t even look at him for fear that my pain would trigger his. I want to ask him about Isaac, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. I talk to Isaac at least once a week and I have to accept that he’s not lying to me and he’s doing ok. Or at least that he’s better than he was when he left. It was the strangest thing, to know that Isaac is trained to be a hunter by Chris Argent’s grandparents. And not just because it’s a werewolf being trained to hunt. They must be a hundred!

I’m careless for a split second and he catches me looking at him and smiling. I was thinking of a funny story Isaac told me about making cognac using the old Argent family recipe. I look away and he doesn’t comment.

He is my inspiration for my “Scott is dead scene”. I let myself feel the pain he must have felt when he found his daughter dead. Both Scott and Isaac told me on separate occasions, both deeply shocked, how Chris had coached them to answer to the police inquiry. Poor Chris. I can’t help wondering what Rafe would do in that situation. Would he stay collected and try to deal with the loss as advised by FBI training manuals? Or would he go the Peter Hale route and kill anyone involved in his son’s death?

But I know what kind of man Chris Argent is. A man who keeps fighting for an ideal even when he no longer has any emotional involvement. He is working alongside the woman who summoned the creatures that killed his daughter because it’s the right thing to do.

Even close mouthed, brooding Derek talked to me about Chris. He told me about the time when the Nogitsune was possessing him and he went to Argent’s apartment to kill him. The Argents had burned down his house and killed most of his family. I could see the werewolf remembering the unbridled rage he’d felt. Apparently the hunter had done some ninja style moves and broken free. Derek had seen his life ending while Chris Argent held a gun to his head. Derek knew himself to be the reason for Victoria’s death. He would have understood the hunter for killing him. The shock was that the man hadn’t. 

_“And all he said, was **Derek I don’t want to kill you. Don’t make me kill you.** I still can’t understand. If I had the chance to kill Kate, I would take it. Hell, I wanted to kill him just because he was an Argent and his kind has killed mine for generations. I can’t help wondering why is he still alive. Maybe it’s just mechanical. Just his training. His instincts are keeping him alive when he has nothing left to live for.”_

When Derek spoke, I remembered what the Darach said when she brought him. _You are making this sacrifice._ We were going to be sacrificed, but he was making the sacrifice. Scott told me later that Chris Argent had left himself captured knowing that she was going to take him where Stiles’ dad and I were.

Through the whole bloody mess with mystical foxes and the fake death of my son… I watch Chris Argent’s reactions. Derek and Isaac were right. He is on auto pilot. I’ve seen people between life and death before. Up to a point, the self-preservation instinct keeps them alive. But if they don’t find something to live for… their bodies just give up. I wrote too many reports for deaths on my watch to miss the signs.

 

++++++

 

When Scott brings Chris Argent in my ER, he’s so good at pretending that at first I can’t see how badly he’s hurt.

I improve at guessing his wounds because I get a lot of practice. He is hurt so often and he heals so much slower than Scott or Isaac. I worry about him. I prefer to be annoyed with him so that I don’t allow any other feelings to develop.

Chris is not a good patient. He always fights my instructions. Always pushes the limits of my recommendations. More than once I have to resort to threatening to restrain him like a mental patient if he doesn’t behave.

I can’t have him die. He’s the only one standing between us and darkness. Stilinski and I both know what’s out there, but the most we can do is sometimes protect someone who did a pretty good job of protecting themselves and they ended up in jail or the ER. We’re sometimes talking over lunch about the people he didn’t arrest and about the wounds I didn’t report. What use is to anyone to jail the surviving victim of a werewolf attack? And I’d certainly be under supervision if I described certain slashes in any terms that might sound close to werewolf-y. So… a lot of our reports read “unknown animal attack”.

And then we send a message to Chris Argent, who handles things.

 

++++++++++++++++

 

Last night I was watching Pulp Fiction again on Netflix and I had to call my friends.

“Don’t you think that Argent is a lot like Harvey Keitel’s character?”

He laughs and repeats this to Natalie. She laughs, too. I smile. My friends. We are in the select club of being parents to children who fight monsters. When I hang up, I want to call Peter. But Peter’s in Eichen House and if we’re very, very lucky, he will never get out. It’s been two years now and I still get the urge to use him for sex and arguments.

 

+++++++++++++++

 

Chris shows up the next day and I freak out because I got to be very adept at guessing his wounds and I can’t see what’s wrong with him. I lock the door and putting on the gloves.

“Where are you hurt?”

“I’m not.”

I am so relieved to hear that I don’t even care why he’s there. I feel like hugging him and mussing his hair like I would with Scott or Isaac. But the eyes looking back at me are not my Scott’s warm brown. They’re piercing blue and I have to stop laughing.

He was a patient, he is a werewolf hunter, he will always be Allison’s dad. I never before allowed myself to find him attractive. When the rumors about us started, I was amused and a little depressed. A guy so rich, powerful and damn hot… having an affair with a single mother full time nurse and the same age as him… Yeah, that would happen! I bet that when he’s not killing evil creatures, he’s sleeping with barely legal supermodels or hot huntresses with the flexibility of gymnasts.

But he is damn gorgeous and it’s been so long since Peter... His proximity affects me more than I can handle. The thought of Peter is probably very high up in my mind because by the end of the conversation I hear myself telling him that

“My last date was with Peter Hale.”

I run out of the room feeling like an idiot.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The three stories (“The Sun”, “The Moon” and “The Truth”) are going to merge with the timeline of “Good things come to those who wait”, and that’s when “The Sun” and “The Moon” will be completed. I might just add chapters, out of sync with the timeline, like Melissa’s memories surfacing at random times (meaning if I get a flash of inspiration I can’t resist). “The Truth” might run along “Good things…” if I feel the need to write more of Melissa’s POV.

 

It’s been weeks and Chris Argent hasn’t been around. I know I should be glad, because it means he’s not hurt. I talked to the Stiles Sr. and he assures me that Chris is alive and kicking. Alive and killing to be more accurate.

“I wish we could do more,” I say when all three of us are having dinner.

 “That’s what I keep telling him,” Natalie says pointing at her boyfriend.

 My friend does a complicated shrug with an expression he must have borrowed from his son. I miss Stiles. I never thought I’d miss that pest!

 “Fine! I’ll talk to him,” he gives up and Natalie kisses him.  

 They are just perfect together. Like they’ve always been together. Maybe in another life. I’m ashamed of my first reaction at hearing that he was dating her. I felt not as much jealous as offended. He’s decided to start dating and hasn’t asked me out? I’m even more ashamed that my second thought was about Peter.

 “He will probably hate the idea,” I say not allowing my mind to drift.

 Chris Argent got used to being alone. I can see that every time he shows up, bruised, battered and broken. And all his gratitude is concentrated in the same few words “Thank you, Mrs. McCall” as if anything more would mean that I’m his friend not just a temporarily useful ally.

 

+++++

 

I got a bad feeling the other day. Really, really bad. Like when Rafe killed for the first time. Like the night Scott got bitten.

 It’s a bad night. I have no idea what happens. It’s so creepy… it’s like someone’s walking around on my grave. I call Scott, and I get some grumbled reassurance that he’s ok, and his friends are ok, they’re not engaged in any battle with a dark entity. I believe him. It’s good to hear his “5 more minutes, mom!” voice I used to hear when I had to wake him up early. I call Isaac, and apparently it’s morning there, and after I reassure him that I’m fine, he shares some funny stories about life in the French countryside.

 I’d call the sheriff but he would freak out, and Natalie would freak out and if there was anything wrong with them, they’d be the ones calling me.

 I wonder if it’s about Peter. The time he and Scott fought, I had collapsed. It was a good thing I was on call, because my colleagues took care of me. A few days later, Stiles had been the one to describe to me the fight between Scott and Peter, and he had been the one to tell me that Peter was again a resident of Eichen House. No one else thought I needed to know about Peter. Stiles just likes talking to me. He likes talking in general, and he feels safe with me, so I get to hear about all sort of things Scott wouldn’t tell me.

 Something is wrong. I feel like a part of me is going numb and I have no idea what’s going on. I’m thinking back at the time the Nogitsune was in town, and I hadn’t felt it. Thinking back at the times this happened to me… I realize that I only get these intuitions when someone close to me is in danger. And I checked on everyone, except my friend. But somehow, I have to accept it’s not about him. He’s been in some dire situations before and I never got these glimpses of wrongness. There is no one else close to me.

 Maybe I’m imagining things.

 And after the rough night… the next day I get a surprising visit. Chris Argent shows up with a bunch of flowers before my lunch break and wants to talk to me. He acts all friendly which is highly suspicious, but I play along.

 We’re walking to the diner round the corner, and although I just kissed him on the cheek and I’m holding his arm, he has never felt farther from me.

 He’s trying to sound reassuring when he tells me about the pack of werewolves that showed up and about the fact that as Scott’s mother I might be in danger. But I am actually relieved to hear the news. That must have been the reason for last night’s trepidations.

 I’m more than a little surprised that he offers to teach me about the supernatural world and how to defend myself. I’ve been racking my brains how to approach him about this and not look like I’m trying to spend time with him. I’m neither blind, nor dead, so yeah, I have to accept that I find him attractive as hell.  I listen to him attentively.

 “I have some books for you, to help you identify them. And I want to teach you some tricks to defend yourself. I trust you to be smart enough to realize that you are not able to take them on by yourself. And that you will call me as soon as you think you’re in danger. 

 What kind of people did he have to deal with? Who the hell would take on a werewolf after a few self-defense lessons?!

 “Of course I won’t think I can kill a werewolf!” I assure him.

 “And you will call me as soon as you think you’re in danger, yes?”

 I’m sure I rolled my eyes like Scott when he said that. Of course I’d call him!

 “If I’m in danger, I’ll call you.”

 “Melissa!”

 His tone is one of cool command. A thrill goes through me at the way he just used my name. It felt like a whip on bare skin. I think I just stopped breathing and my brain is trying to make sense of this.

 “You won’t wait to be in danger to call me! If you as much as think something’s wrong, you call me!”

 I want to answer him, but I’m not sure what just happened.

 “You can call the Sheriff if you prefer. More likely you will put him in danger and he will still end up calling me. He has… constraints in what he can do,” he says.

 “And you don’t.”

 I said it just to make it seem like I’m present and not day dreaming about him using my name more often. It sounded so damn good. I guess he couldn’t have said “Mrs. McCall!” and make it sound like he scolded an errant schoolgirl.

 “I have a Code.”

 I remember. All three of us tied, waiting for rescue or death. But I can’t talk at the moment, so it’s better to make him talk while I recover.

 “Can you tell me?”

 I listen to him, and my heart bleeds for him. His voice doesn’t betray any pain. Just resolve, hard and unyielding. I hold his hands and I wish I can help him because I fear that he has hardened himself so much against the pain, he has no flexibility left and he will break. Aloud, I just ask for a chance to help his fight.  

 

+++++

 

My fear is confirmed on route to our first training session. I dare to ask him if training me won’t remind him of training his daughter. His answers are so cold and controlled I feel like crying for him. Now I see what Isaac must have seen.

 Scott can take physical pain away through touching. I touch him, hoping I can make his emotional pain more bearable.

 Aaaaand only a few minutes later all my good intentions seem a joke, because as soon as the training starts all I can think about is his body. His lean, strong body, vibrant and warm, pressed against me at random moments during the lesson. His breath on my skin just before I get thrown to the ground. I haven’t been in such intimate contact with a man in a long time. I deny myself the memory of the last man who got so close to me. Not a man. A monster. Not intimacy. A madness that made me so disgusted with myself I never allowed anyone else close. I still feel sullied by the monster’s touch.  I feel unworthy to be touched by this man I see as a knight of the light.

 After a while, my embarrassing arousal is tempered by the very physical pain and very real embarrassment. Why did I expect him to start with something less aggressive? Some cardio or some yard work whatever the hell they did in Karate Kid.

 Maybe he wants to punish me for daring to pick at a wound that hadn’t completely healed, but I’m really getting my ass handed to me. Either that, or I really suck at fighting.  

 “Again?” I ask, trying not to let him notice just how much I want to stop.

 I’m discreetly rubbing my ass from the last fall, trying not to think of the bruise that’s going to remind me of this lesson every time I sit down for a week when he seems to relent.

 “No, I think it’s enough for this part. You’re going to need different clothes next time.”

 My smile of relief froze at his last words. I look him, I take in the way he’s dressed and when I look down at my clothes, I feel like a fool. His clothes are a lot thicker, they have like padding and all sort of nifty looking materials at the elbows and knees, while I… I’m dressed like a goddamn ballerina!

 “Let’s try something else,” he says and hands me a bow and an arrow.

 I already feel like a failure so at this point I don’t even care if I look silly. I take the bow and try to find a position that seems practical and comfortable.

 “Let’s try to hit that tree. See that big knot it about 5 feet from the ground?”

 If he’s not giving me any advice, I’ll just go for the point and shoot approach. I must be doing it pretty good, especially after the very low standard I set earlier because I can hear the surprise in his voice when he says

 “Very good.”

 And that’s about the last part of the lesson in which my brain is totally focused on what I’m supposed to be learning. As soon as he puts his arms around me to correct my stance… I’m lost. I can hear him speaking, but the words go through one ear and out the other. My breasts are tingling, I can feel myself blushing so hard that even the tips of my ears are burning, and my eyes simple can’t stay open. What is he saying? What is he saying? I’m trying to make out the words but his voice feels like a caress. Oh, God, this can’t be happening!

 “Come on. Just look at the tree and hit it!”

 He’s no longer close so I’m kind of coming back to my senses. My mind is too blurry to think about what I’m doing, and the point and shoot technique seems to work perfectly.

 “Excellent!”

 I barely stop myself from hugging him at the praise.

 “Yes! Oh thank God I’m not a disaster at this, too!”

 He’s being nice and encouraging, but when he mentions Allison is like I’m doused in cold water. Allison is dead. This is not a game. It was nice to feel desire, but that can’t happen again. Chris Argent is not Peter Hale. He is not a valid option to satisfy basic necessities. I have to remain the person he can count on when he’s hurt. And I have to be able to learn from him so that I’m not a liability for Scott.

 Scott.

 More than anyone else, this man is a real threat for Scott. He needs to do the right thing. He may have altered his code, no longer hunting just those who hunt us, but protecting those who can’t protect themselves. If it came to it, what would Chris Argent think it’s the right thing to do if Scott makes a mistake?

 “Would you really kill Scott if you had to?”

 As soon as I asked, I realized I didn’t phrase what I meant.

 “You know the answer. The question is, would you kill him if he starts hurting people?”

 I’m a little surprised by the question. How can he imagine that I would ever kill my son? I give him the courtesy of considering the question. And I think about all the wounds I saw over the years, about all the deaths caused by werewolves like Scott. No. Not like Scott. I try to explain this to the man who was trained since childhood to kill werewolves.

 “I read the book you gave me. I can understand that you were raised to believe that once a human becomes a werewolf they are cursed to lose the fight with the monstrous urges. And I can see how good you are at compartmentalizing. So it’s fair to tell you that I will give my life before losing faith in my son.”

  


	4. Chapter 4

I’ve known Chris Argent for years, and it’s been a few months since I became his personal physician, sort of. The point is that I got to know him very well and there is something definitely off about him since we started training. At first I thought I was imagining it. Then I picked up on his apparently pretty intense sexual attraction to me, and for a while I thought that might be it. It was a shock, but it still didn’t explain that nagging feeling that something is not right about him.

 The lessons go on, and I’m grateful that Natalie started training with us because that cuts from the amount of time I spend being a disappointment to Chris. Oh, yes, and also the amount of pain. I am not getting any better. On top of my natural disinclination, I keep trying to figure out what’s wrong with Chris, which makes me even less able to follow his instructions. Sometimes that’s actually helpful because when I’m not actively concentrating on what I should do, my reactions are pretty lucky.

 We’re working on a new move and I’m so distracted, I forget what I’m supposed to be doing and for the first time in ages, he’s the one hitting the ground.

 “Oh God, are you ok?” I ask kneeling next to him. 

 I don’t need to hear Natalie’s gasp to know it was stupid. I’m getting ready for a scolding from Chris, but his reaction scares the hell out of me. He grabs me and pulls me to the ground.

 “What did I tell you about pity? Until the fight is over, you do whatever the hell it takes to be sure that your opponent is incapacitated. Until the lesson is over, I AM THE ENEMY!”

 He’s on top of me and the intensity in his voice and the anger in his eyes scare me. He presses his body into me, and I realize he’s honestly trying to hurt me. My wrists hurt where he’s holding them. I already have bruises on my back from other falls which adds to the pain. I’m about to beg to be released when my knowledge of the human body signals a weakness. His beautiful blue irises are just two thin circles around his dilated black pupils. As a confirmation, I can feel something else growing in size and poking me in the belly. I forget to think and I react. I kiss him.

 It feels so good I almost forget it was meant to be a distraction, and I want to spread my legs and welcome him. The arousal isn’t strong enough to delete the fear I felt earlier, so I can still remember that I have to get away.

 I move faster than I thought possible, and in a matter of seconds, I have the crossbow in my hand and I’m pointing it to his head. For a split second, the man looking up at me is like Chris Argent’s evil twin. My heart is pounding and my fingers tremble. I am truly afraid and yet in that moment I realize that I wouldn’t be able to kill him. Even before the Chris Argent I know wins whatever internal battle was going on, my fingers relax. I would not shoot. So when he, my friend and my knight, asks for my help to get up, I lower the crossbow and give him my hand.

 It was another test.

 “You just don’t want to stay alive!” he says when he has me pressed against the wall, hand twisted around my back.

 His breath is on my skin and his erection is brazenly poking me. I don’t get the chance to decide whether I’m afraid or aroused because he lets me go.

 “You have to decide if you want to be able to defend yourself. Really look inside and decide. It’s nothing wrong if you don’t do this. As long as you accept that you need to be protected.”

 He says this in one breath and leaves like a soap opera character.

 “That was intense,” Natalie says.

 I flop down on a chair and if my mouth would be working, I’d be able to agree with her verbally instead of nodding like an idiot. We leave the basement in silence. I’m grateful that she’s not trying to make conversation while I mechanically make us some coffee.

 “He’s right,” I whisper after a while.

 “He is NOT right,” Natalie replies outraged. “Don’t tell me that you’re not going to do whatever it takes in a real fight.”

 “But I suck at this! You’re so good at it, and I… just can’t get my act together.”

 Natalie is looking at me, as if she’s trying to decide what to do next.

 “Listen, I don’t want to overstep here… I don’t know you that well but… There’s something between you and Chris. And you’re both ignoring it.”

 She’s right.

 Natalie left some time ago and I’m in the shower trying to get the sweat off my skin and the fog out of my mind. She’s right though. There is something between us and it’s making everything so difficult.

 This needs to be cleared up immediately. I know it’s late but I don’t care. I’m going to talk to him. With the towel wrapped around me I go to the wardrobe to find something to wear. For some reason all my clothes remind me of Peter. Have I really not bought anything to wear for two years? I cannot go to Chris wearing something Peter took off me. I manage to find a dress and when I get to doing something about my hair I realize that my hands shake too much to be able to braid it.

 I don’t remember driving to his place. I don’t remember knocking on his door. The evening seems to have zoomed from the moment he stormed out of my house to the moment when I accept a glass of whiskey in his study. I hear myself talking, trying to explain to this man trained to hunt that I cannot do what he’s trying to teach me.

 “Knowing our limitations and accepting them is a wise choice. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get rid of the threat already,” he says.

 He’s being so nice about it. I have to interrupt him. I don’t want him to use this to cut me away from the chance of making a difference.

 “I still want to help however else I can. You will find and neutralize this threat, I’m sure. But we both know the beacon is still active. Others will come. Please, Chris, you have to let me help you.”

 He seems shocked, and he says ok but I can feel he’s just humoring me.

 “I trust you. I’ll do what you ask, when you ask it. I trust you even now, when I know you’re keeping something from me. If you give me the chance to prove it to you, I will show you that you can trust me, too.”

 Apparently trust is a major issue for him. He speaks and I finally get a glimpse into his darkness.

 “You ask for my trust… I trusted my father who raised me to obey the Code and my trust made me blind to his actions. To his choice to break that very code to an extent I could not have imagined… I trusted my wife to make the hard choices for us. And she chose to die after she made the choice to kill an innocent. When she chose to die, I was unable to find another solution… I trusted my sister, and she killed innocents. She lied to me for years. And when she was changed, she was so far gone into darkness, she did not choose to die.”

 It hurts to listen to him. Hurts to see how much he lost. Hurts to hear him say that he can’t be trusted.

 “…speaking from experience, you should be careful putting your trust in anyone. Even me.”

 “If I don’t trust you… I’d have to give up hope,” I tell him.

 He has to understand how much he means to me. How important he is. How good he is.

 “I know people. I saw you fight. You stood up for what was right even when it was against orders. Against your training. You followed your soul.”

 My palm is on his chest. The beating of his heart is strong and steady. I can’t help the comparison. The last man I touched like that… Peter’s heart never beat so loudly. I am ashamed to have spared that monster even a thought in Chris’s presence. Ashamed to think about Peter. I didn’t come here for sex. I didn’t. I swear I didn’t. I’m trying to tell myself this but it doesn’t matter anymore. He looks at me and shows me the lust he accidentally let me see earlier during training. We are alone now. I find no resources to push away the want.

 He is touching me. It’s a mix of lust and reverence. I am unworthy. I am tainted. I try to push him away but the kiss takes away any power I might have. I am lost.


End file.
